4
by AGirlsGottaEat
Summary: Jack, a husband and father, is trying to understand what is happening inside his new family home whilst trapped between reality and a nightmare. — • • Silent Hills
1. HOME

_**Synopsis: **__Jack, a husband __and father, is trying to understand what is happening inside his new family home whilst trapped between reality and a nightmare._

* * *

><p><span><strong>4<strong>

"_There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile,_

_He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile._

_He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse,_

_And they all lived together in a little crooked house."_

**Week One**

**HOME**

* * *

><p><strong>[Prologue]<strong>

This isn't a ghost story.

It _can't_ be.

I've never believed in such a thing, the dead haunting the living, the lost soul of a murdered child or mother roaming the world without gaining the peace it needed to move on. Everything had an rational explanation, even the most bizarre and insane sighting or event, but nothing in the world could lead me to think that a ghost was the root cause of such destruction and violence. It was stupid. Many people, including myself, can misinterpret what they see, feel and smell, and for the conclusion to come down to a supernatural being is completely absurd, especially without scientific evidence. That _was _how I thought. Maybe, it still is. It's hard to break something you thought to be right and is widely know to be logically correct, and to start believing in something that is supposed to be non-existent.

Some people make a living from talking to the deceased, creating false hope or blatantly telling the living that their relative was happy, then asking for payment for their ability to lie to their face. I had heard of the art of performing an exorcise on certain people, forcing a spirit or bad demon out of the body, and then sending it back to Hell. It was another way to gain money; that was how I saw it. Or, how I _used _to see it.

This doubt and fear of the unknown started when we moved into our new home. Now, thinking back, it was _too_ perfect. It was like the house was built especially for us. Then, it happened.

The pure white, apparition that resembled a woman floating in front of me, her left eye coal black and seemed to be missing. It _couldn't_ have been real. I must have been dreaming, or the dark was playing a game with me, everywhere I looked I saw a slight movement or flash of dimed white light, and by the time my gaze adjusted to the blackness, whatever I saw was gone like smoke. But then, I saw her, that white chalk face, rotten flesh and inky hair that fell down her back, wet and tangled, sticking to her face. Instantly, I felt my body become numb and cold, my chest tightened and my head suddenly became heavy from the horrific figure that approached me. I wanted to scream, shout, run, but I found myself trapped inside my own body, my mind racing with the possibility of escape, yet my body continued to walk down the hallway calmly. The woman frantically twitched, shaking violently, a groan leaving her putrid mouth like she was trying to speak to me urgently. I blinked slowly, hoping that she would disappear within that fleeting second my eyelids were closed, but she didn't. She remained.

I walked. I could do nothing but walk. And then, I saw me walking in front of myself. But it wasn't really _me_.

* * *

><p><strong>[Day One]<strong>

The house Lisa was interested in was near a forest, a widespread of woodland that was occupied by a vast lake, the salty taste of the water that polluted the air was on my mouth and the smell of damp wood made my nose crinkle. It was beautiful and I hadn't seen anything like it before in my life, growing up in the city I was used to concrete and road, and now I was surround with wood and grass. My wife and I had been searching for a house; somewhere peaceful and quiet, somewhere away from the mess we had left behind us. We found one, a detached, three-bedroomed house, a huge garden and nice friendly neighborhood that enticed Lisa even more.

My wife, Lisa, was expecting our third child, which was expected to be born the coming July. She wanted to move away from our old home and live somewhere peaceful, preferably a small town with a close community, somewhere to raise the children and start all over again. When we traveled down North to Maine she was so eager and happy, and finally when we drove into Toluca County, she stared out the window for the remainder of the trip. We passed a tourist town on our way to viewing the property, it was the residential area on the North side, Lisa had began to ramble on about how this part of Maine was once known as _'The Place of Silenced Spirits'_ and was considered to have some kind of enigmatic spiritual power, a holy place where a local religious group had resided for many years before. She had always been interested in that stuff, it didn't bother me, I found it interesting listening to her, but I wasn't the type to believe in it. We drove on, passing the woodland and lake, listening to the crunch of stone and leaves underneath the weight of the car, the sound of the wind and radio that was playing some new song from a musician I had never heard of.

Every so often Lisa would glance over to me, smiling radiantly, before returning her attention back to the world outside, rubbing her bump in a circler motion. Her curly brunette hair rested on her shoulder, flowing like a wave down to her chest where it coiled upward into a spiral. She wore her grey baggy top that hung from her frame lazily, engulfing her figure and bump within the thick fabric and stopping right above her knees. For the last two months Lisa had felt self-conscious about the way she looked, wearing clothing that covered most of her body, the floral and bright dresses she normally would have worn were lost within the back of the wardrobe, replaced by loose-fitting clothes. Whenever I tried to tell her she still looked beautiful, she would shake her head and wave me away, changing the subject swiftly.

Then, we got there. The detached house, like many others we had passed whilst walking down the avenue, had white-framed windows and a sandstone colored door. The lawn was neat and cut immaculately, and a silver Volkswagen Beetle was parked slightly diagonally to the left of the house. To say the least, it looked like whomever lived there certainly tended to the upkeep of the house pretty well, and certainly had a good job. For Lisa, it was love at first sight. She was beaming throughout the entire tour of the house and holding my hand tightly as we looked inside each room, gazing at the interior design and the quality condition it was kept in. She kept bringing up Jareth and Lucy, our children, stating how they would love the gigantic garden and the fact that we lived near a wood, insisting that we would have to take them out camping. It was clear she had already made up her mind, and I knew she would want to put an offer on the place.

I didn't like it, of course.

There was something about the lone house that just bothered me in some way, a way that I couldn't explain when Lisa asked me what was wrong with it, a disappointed expression on her face as she sighed heavily. But that was the thing, there was _nothing _wrong with the house itself, but from the moment I walked over the front doorstep, I just wanted to escape the overbearing building. A heavy, depressing atmosphere descended over my head and I just wanted to leave and continue looking for a new home, even if it was out of our budget. Maybe I was being silly, stupid even, the place was perfect, it had everything, and God knew we had searched for a long, long time for a house like this one. My stomach turned as I nodded my head and agreed, an automatic smile on my face, but if it made Lisa happy, then I was too.

Now, we had arrived, and I was standing in the driveway grasping hold of the cardboard box Lisa had told me to get for the kitchen, staring up at the building with an unsure look on my face. Already Jareth and Lucy was running in and out of the house, playing chase, choosing a room, enjoying their new home more than myself. I didn't usually like or encourage change, I was that sort of guy, the same food, clothing, haircut, I didn't like leaving my comfort zone. I guess I'm pretty selfish in that respect, but that was going to change. It _had _to.

"You'll get used to it, honey," Lisa came from behind me, her slim hand on my back, gently stroking my shoulder blade as she rested her head on my arm. I buried my hand into her thick chestnut hair, twirling a lock between my finger and thumb, smelling the sweet aroma of perfume she had on. I felt more comforted, confident that I was going to make this move work, so I nodded my head and kissed her forehead lightly in response. Again, I looked up at the house, thinking that maybe all I had to do was get used to the change of environment. No longer would I listen to the sound of traffic and a lone police siren when I woke up, but the long forgotten sound of birds singing in the morning. Lisa smiled and hummed contently, "I promise. Just give it time. It'll grow on you."

"Yeah." I managed to say, "You're right."

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Two]<strong>

Brahms.

A small town, a family town, very much unlike the big city life we had become adapted to over the years. From what I had learned from a neighbor—a married, ageing man that lived across the road from us—was that the forest was very popular in the hunting season. He seemed to have a keen interest in hunting; in fact, he had even invited me inside his home to admire the stuffed deer head he displayed proudly in his dining room. Then, he showed me his double-barrel shotgun, devastating at close range yet it took time to reload. I wasn't particularly interested or happy about shooting wild deer, but thought it would be polite to nod my head and smile, even though I was far from a man who enjoyed killing for fun or a hobby. Even the sight of the firearm made my gut turn unpleasantly, the dark sheen and weight of it as he practically insisted me to hold it, if anything it was _heavy_ and weighed me down like a stone thrown into a river.

After introducing ourselves to the rest of the neighborhood and receiving homemade pleasantries, unpacking had begun to consume the rest of the day. I was kneeled in front of a cardboard box labeled _'Lounge'_, it was written in curly and feminine lettering, and instantly I knew Lisa had packed this one. Every so often I looked out the window onto the garden, watching as Lucy played with her doll and talked to it merrily, rolling on the grass and pouring her imaginary tea into the plastic teacup set we had bought her. Already she had taken a liking to her new home, so had Jareth, though he was more upset he had to leave his friends back at his old school. He would make more; there was no doubt, when he started back at school he would make many more. That aside, everyone was happy.

_Knock, knock._

"Jack," Lisa called softly, walking through doorway and into the main part of the household that connected the kitchen, lounge and dining room. The design and interior of the house was bright and followed the color scheme of white and beige, occupied by wooden photo frames that hung on the walls. A variety of photos Lisa had decided to hang up first, landscapes and photos of family, all leading to the higher floor and through the entire house. She sat down on the shabby brown leather coach, crossing one leg over the other, "Everything alright, honey?"

"Yeah," I slide the box to the side, "Where—uh, where is Jareth?"

"He's in his room." She said, rubbing her belly, her once smiling mouth pressed into a hard line, "You're happy, aren't you? With all this, I mean. New house, new people, new town, you think we made the right choice?"

"Of course we did," I say, though I'm not sure if I'm telling the truth. Was it right to leave everything and everyone we know? To run away? When Lisa suggested for us to move I admit I was pessimistic at first, thinking it was a silly idea and our life would be the same even if we did consider it, but in the end I had agreed to move. I wouldn't have done that if I thought is was a bad choice, I don't _do_ stuff like that. I have to think it through, what we gain, what we lose, then I move forward. And now, I'm sat here, on the floor with Lisa giving me a funny expression, like she is embarrassed by asking the question, though I don't react and continue to look back at her.

"Good." Lisa gave me a shy, apologetic smile, "Keep up the good work. I'll make dinner soon."

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Three]<strong>

The phone rang at Ten O'clock at night. I was watching television in the low-lit lounge, a small thing with a screen the size of a book cover, only temporary, as we hadn't unpacked the flat screen yet. Lisa had gone to bed early, her body aching and exhausted, though she tried to hide the discomfort behind her lighthearted attitude and said it was nothing but a small cramp. I wasn't going to let it go, so I finished the remaining of the unpacking in the kitchen and told her to get some rest. I was a worrier, especially when I found out she was pregnant again, any small pain she had I would insist we should go to the hospital just in case.

I pushed myself up from the couch, checking my wristwatch and then heading to the hallway, following the sound of the phone that rang continuously.

"Hello?" I answered; surprised that someone was _actually _ringing us, as we hadn't given anyone our new home number yet. It then occurred to me it could be the previous owner, maybe they had forgotten something or didn't tell us everything about the house, but why would they be ringing now? In a light attitude I waited for a reply, considering that someone had the wrong number. There was a low buzz of static coming from the other end, so quiet I could barely hear, but loud enough to make out that someone was trying to speak. Their wording was inconsistent and faded away like a slow tide from the speaker, yet I held on in case they had bad reception and was trying to get a signal. I raised my voice, "Hello? Can you hear me?"

"_2—0—4-8-6—3—"_

"What?" I felt my forehead crease in confusion, "Hello? Anyone there?"

"_You've-been—chosen-"_

"Who is it?" A warm, coherent voice said, followed by the sound of the door gently being closed, I squeeze the handset in surprise, unaware that Lisa was awake and had too come to answer the phone. My mouth was open but I was unable to speak, instead I stared at Lisa's flushed face and composed myself from her sudden presence. I pressed my cheek into the handset, trying to make sense of the noise that was coming from the speaker, but already the hissing of white noise had drowned the voice out. Both confused and irritated by the late night call I simply hung up, placing the phone back down on the switch hook and shaking my head. "What's wrong? Jack?"

"Some automated crap," I said quickly, waving my hand dismissively, "Probably some kind of scam, y'know, the one where they say you've won something and then they ask for all your details before robbing you blind. It doesn't matter where you go; those people are still going to call you. It's nothing to worry about."

"Oh," She gave me a playful nudge, her mouth curling at the corner showing a hint of a smile, before walking back toward the staircase. "Don't stay up too late."

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Four]<strong>

Once I had descended down the staircase toward the thick, wooden door, the certain feeling of isolation had erupted inside of me. The basement, a small yet intimidating room was dimly lit by a dying light bulb, and all that accompanied it inside was a lone table and chair. Supporting the roof was a wooden plank that resembled the style of Romanesque architecture, and the smell of dust made the air feel thick and heavy to the extent it began to irritate my nose and make my eyes water. Taking a shaky breath, I momentary searched the area. Somehow, I didn't feel…_safe. _With the silent atmosphere it became intense, _uncomfortable_. There was nothing visually to be afraid of, yet I no longer preferred my own company, but yearned for something more than the dead silence that hung over my head.

I placed the empty cardboard box in the corner of the room and left.

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Five]<strong>

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Why did we move?" Lucy looked up from her toy rabbit, finally coming into the kitchen, briskly walking past me to take his seat on the opposite side of the table that separated us a meter in distance. Smoothly, Lucy positioned the tattered and sun-bleached rabbit, a stuffed animal mascot she couldn't bear to part with, onto her lap. Its pink fur was shabby and small patches had began to appear from where the loose thread had finally snapped and allowed the fake fleece to fall out due to old age. She played with the rabbit's long ears that had become fuzzy and drooped over its button eyes. "Is it because of the baby? Is Mommy having the baby soon?"

"It should be soon." I say with a smile, "Another month."

She pursed her lip. I can see the concentration in her face; she's the spitting image of Lisa. She looked at her rabbit, playing with the last remaining button on his blue dungarees, a small tag that protruded from the rabbit's bottom that had '_Lakeside Amusement Park_' written in round and curly letters that entwined with a clown emblem. As if she was asking it for advice, Lucy brought the rabbit to her ear, but then dismissed it and tilted her head at me. Slowly, she asked, "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"We don't know. We want it to be a surprise." I overlapped my hands, bringing them to my chin, "What do you want it to be?"

"_Girl._" She replied with a big grin, hugging her toy tighter.

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Six]<strong>

"Hello?"

"_2—0—4-8-6—3—"_

I listened to the automated voice repeat the sequence of the numbers over and over. I wasn't sure what to do, or how to stop the call, it began to frustrate me and if that wasn't enough, the phone had begun to ring in the middle of the night now. After a moment of listening, hoping that the message would change into something understandable, I hang up. I then pause, a jolt of determination going through me, and I select the _'Last Call Return' _button on the menu of the phone, and wait. The other end of the speaker welcomed me with a low, constant wave of static that made the speaker vibrate against my ear. My voice was hesitant and husky, "Hello? Who _is _this?"

_"Eight—months. Eight—months. You remember—right—"_

I feel something, a tingle against my thumb, and I glance down toward my hand that is rested on top of the table. A black roach is rested on it, spreading a broken wing outward, revealing a long, needle thin leg that is twitching against my skin. I screw up my face, "Oh," I pull back in disgust, "What the Hell?"

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Seven]<strong>

I _think_ I'm asleep.

I look down the hallway, and see it. Or rather _her__. _

Everything faded into darkness as the very last light soon died. Then a bright red glow illuminated the small, narrow area, and with each small, dark droplet of blood that fell from the white fridge that hung on creaking rope above me, the wall and floor became more of a dark reflection of how the once beautiful house used to be. The once picturesque existence it had begun to become wrapped and ruined, spreading like a virus, gradually concealing the entire building with twisted metal and bloodstained barbed wire that consumed every window. The entire ceiling had been transformed into flesh that would spasm and pulsated over my head, moving, twitching, and groaning as if it was alive. My body is shaking, sweating, I can't move nor speak, all I can do is witness this Hell take over my house.

Everything has deteriorated, rotted, weakened.

Soft, gentle flakes parted with the floor, disappearing like smoulder as they raised into the air to reveal the rusted surface below. The transition only took seconds to transform the house, but for me, everything happened in a painfully slow motion, teasing me with the unknown and dangerous world that had been created. The throbbing returned to my skull, pulsing and stretching, tearing away at the muscle and lining in my head. I want to wake up now. I'm _scared. _Never have I felt this feeling of pure fear and venerability, my blood running cold through my body, my mouth dry and shaking, my head wet with sweat that had formed above my brow. _  
><em>

The woman is still standing there, her pure brown orbs staring upward, still shining through the long lashes that curled outward. Her mouth is parted open into a permanent oval shape, slightly allowing a thin trail of slaver and blood to escape down to her chin. I say something, though I can't hear myself speak, just a faint mutter, barely a whisper that left my mouth.

_I can hear them... They're coming from below us... From below..._

As soon as the harsh, white light came on, the wall became alive with black roaches that scattered and hid away from my sight.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__This story is based on the Silent Hills P.T. I can't wait for the full game to be released._

_This story will be short. I would really appreciate some feedback on this chapter. Thank you for reading._


	2. HAUNT

**4**

"_He met a crooked woman and he found a crooked preach,_

_They had a crooked marriage on a crooked little beach. _

_They had some crooked children and they lived a crooked life,_

_The crooked man, the cat, the mouse, the children and the wife."_

**Week Two**

**HAUNT**

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Eight]<strong>

After that dream, that stupid, but somehow alarming dream, everything changed. I was irritable when the day started, so much that Lisa didn't even want to speak to me, knowing that she'd get a rather sullen response in return. I was _angry_, and I didn't know why. I continued to unpack each cardboard box with a grim and depressing mind, still thinking of the woman I had seen in my nightmare, the face that still continued to haunt me and fueled my hatred toward our new home even more. The thought that I had seen her somewhere before lingered within my mind, an unshakable recognition, the most prominent aspect that had stayed with me after I woke up next to Lisa, sweating and breathing like I had run a marathon. But, it was a dream; the woman could have been nothing more but a gloomy manifestation of my stressed and over-active mind, that was all.

_Stop. It's not real. You're thinking too much into it._

For the majority of our marriage I listened to Lisa—with an open mind—talk about the message behind certain dreams, whether you're falling, being chased, pulling out your own teeth or are in public area completely naked, everything had meaning. For the majority of the day I continued to drag my bare feet along the laminate floor, trying to focus my wondering mind on the aim of finally finish unpacking, yet for some reason I developed an wish to just _drop the box, grab Lisa, the children and drive to the closet Motel and ring up my Dad and beg to stay at his and hope that Lisa would understand and wouldn't be too mad at me and would forgive me and we could move to a different house and it'll all be alright— _I wanted a drink.

To feel the burning sensation of whiskey going down my throat and into my stomach, making the day go faster and my speculating mind melt and fall into the darkness, which is such joyful nothingness. I instantly regret that unwelcomed thought, and for a just moment, I take a deep breath and try to sink that urge back down. I was finished with that. With the feeling I was being judged by an invisible presence, I left the room with a shameful walk, mentally punishing myself with the imagery from what happened the last time I drank.

With work gradually becoming more stressful I began to drink every time I came home from work. At first, it was just a harmless shot glass of whiskey that would take the edge off and make me feel relaxed. Then, it became more frequent, and I saw myself deteriorate more and more when I looked at myself in the mirror each harsh morning. Poor Lisa, I saw that expression she made when she looked at me, that pity and disgust, it overwhelmed me so much that I would just go out and not return till the next night. Finally, I got that call from the manager. It was an instant dismissal, due to poor performance and alcohol possession on the premises. Telling Lisa was the worst part, but she wasn't angry, more worried and hysterical that we were going to lose the house and everything we had earned. After a long, loud discuss of what we needed to do, she finally calmed down, giving me a red cheek at the same time, but I didn't retaliate. I asked why she was still with me, and she replied, _"Because I love you."_, but I knew she had the kid's wellbeing as her first priority and didn't want them to see us go through a divorce and still have nowhere to live. I wanted that too. I wanted them to be happy. As I searched for another job—with a reference I wouldn't give to my worst enemy—Lisa got a part time job cashier, which she hated, but at least it brought in a wage. Whenever I asked about it she shrugged me off and went to our bedroom, alone.

I shouted. Clamping my hand to my head, I stumbled and fell into the wall, banging my shoulder against it and feeling a sharp pain travel all the way up into neck. Looking around franticly I preyed that Jareth had rushed into the room and passed me as he would sometimes do whilst he played football inside, despite Lisa constantly telling him not to. No one was there. The door was closed. I _felt_ it. It was like someone was going to hit me, but just barely missed, but you could still imagine what the pain would have felt like by the gush of the wind that passed your cheek. With my heart racing from the sudden experience I stayed in the awkward position against the wall, my eye landing on the _fucking closed _window across the room, so the weather wasn't to blame. In that short time, scarcely a second, it felt like someone was standing next to me and _leaning _toward me. I made a low noise of compete disbelief, still looking up and down the room, searching for something that wasn't findable.

There was little distance between the door, and myself, and before I could even start to comprehend what had just happened, I ran out.

* * *

><p>"Are you alright?" Lisa asked whilst straightening Jareth's coat, an annoyed expression slumped on his face, as he didn't like being coddled. He gently pushed Lisa's hand away, protesting that he could do it himself, before walking away and pulling up his hood and heading toward the front door. Like any Mother, Lisa called after him, reminding him not to talk to anyone he didn't know and to not go too far. Lisa then returned her attention to me, "Well?"<p>

"I'm fine." I cleared my throat, getting myself a glass of tap water.

"Look, Jack," Her mouth opened for second before she clasped it shut, deciding against what she was going to say and instead remaining hushed. She walked closer toward me as I took out a glass out of the cupboard. She waited until I filled the glass with water, then spoke, pulling a wooden chair from underneath the kitchen table, "I know something has been brothering you. Just tell me."

"It's nothing, really." I paused. "I'm _fine_."

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Nine]<strong>

The next day, I turned on my old computer and searched the web, typing in the only thing that had consumed me the previous night: _'The National Archives'._

_Loading…_

_1%_

_Loading…_

_56%_

_Loading…_

_99%_

Already I had gone down to library early that morning, 7:00am, trying not wake Lisa as I silently washed, shaved and dressed myself, dropped the kid's off at school and then took a steady drive toward the North side of Brahms that had the bank, mall, post office, grocery store and various clerk and business buildings. The South side of town was more of a residential area, and along with the forest and lake, it was the most popular area for tourist's as they would go camping and fishing in the summer, Toluca County was surprising popular for city folk. Parking my old but reliable Golf outside the old, intimidating building, I looked over the architecture and historical design of the library, guessing that it hadn't changed much since the day it was built. Luckily, I was able to get a copy of the original building permit for my house. From reading through it I had already found out information about the household, including the architect, contractor, original owner and the construction date.

The website finally loaded up, bright and overdone as it was, I continued to type in the vital details of the house and hoped that I would finally get some relevant information. I didn't know what I was looking for, something that would comfort me or shed some light on the history of this place, anything would have been great. What _was _I looking for? The first thing that came up was the _'Brahms Newspaper Archive'. _Clicking on the bright blue link I found myself enthralled by the gigantic bold black wording in front of me, reading each one carefully, though nothing really brought out my interest and some were completely irrelevant to what I was looking for. My knee continued to shake with impatience as scanned though article after article, I must have been on the site for about an hour or so, until finally I came across a range of different headlines'.

'_HISTORY MONTH. BRAHMS CELEBRATES TOWN'S HUNDRETH BIRTHDAY.'_

'_RELIGIOUS CULT ONCE RESIDED WITHIN BRAHMS IN 1800.'_

'_1801. FIRST RECORDED HOUSE BUILT BY JOHN HILL.'_

'_2 DEAD. 3 MISSING IN TOLUCA LAKE.' _

'_POLICE OFFICER MISSING.'_

There was a number at the very bottom of the page, along with the sentence, _"For more information please call the following number.' _Deciding against ringing the number I instead clink onto the search bar, pausing as I reflected on what I had just read, concluding that this town had it's fair share of drama throughout the years. After a moment of silence of listening to the roof above me creak from an unknown weight, I typed the only thing I could, _'Brahms Haunting'._

_Loading…_

_Loading…_

_100,000 results._

"Don't be stupid." I tell myself.

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Ten]<strong>

It was 4:00pm.

The screaming from outside snapped me out of my gaze of TV, the football game was on, and though I rarely watched sport it was something to do on a Saturday afternoon. For a second I was sure it was my imagination, yet it happened again, and again, and I instantly muted the television, almost throwing the remote toward the screen in panic and urgency to find out where the sound was coming from. My blood ran cold within my body, like someone had showered me with ice water, it made my skull ache and body momentarily motionless due to my brain still unable to fully recover and come back to reality.

Outside. Lucy, Jareth and a neighbors' kid, Daniel, were playing outside. _Shit. _

I practically fly off the sofa, running toward the conservatory and slide open the door, making it tremble frantically on it's hinge as I forcefully push, feeling as though I could have ripped the entire thing off with one hand. It led me to the flowering and green backyard; the screaming now piercing through my head like sharp drill. My bare feet squelch against the mud and dewdrop covered grass whilst I walk outside like a zombie, grey and detached, my horrified gaze landing on the three children that were under a tree. I shout, but I don't make a word, just a traumatized noise of shock that was a release of the raw emotion that had bubbled over. Confused and scared and sick I find the strength to run over to them, and see Lucy lying in the mud, her red cheeks streaked with the dozen trails of tears. The top right of her head was bleeding, and from that sight alone, I collapsed onto the floor and scooped her into my arms. "Lucy? Baby, are you all right? Does it hurt? Shh, it's okay." I look up at Jareth and Daniel, who look traumatized, "What happened? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Jareth exploded, "I swear! She just started crying! We weren't doing anything! She just, she started screaming, and then she was on the floor!"

"Daniel," I say sternly to the blonde boy, "Go get your mother. Tell her that Lucy is hurt and that we need a ride to the hospital."

"Uh, yeah, okay," Daniel swiftly goes past Jareth, making his way across the road and into his own house. I look down on Lucy who is still crying, and hold her tightly against my chest, feeling the blood stain my shirt and sink through to my skin. Lisa had gone out for grocery's and took the car with her, leaving me with the children, a task that I had done since we had Jareth. There was nothing in the garden she could have hurt herself on, we taken the excess wooden plank sticking out the ground to the dumpsite when we first moved in and locked the shed so she couldn't get inside and get into the tool kit. What _was_ there for her to hurt herself on? Nothing. She couldn't have just fallen and hurt herself this bad.

"Jareth," I say sternly, "Look at me. Tell me the truth. What happened?"

"I don't know, Dad," Jareth stuttered, "We thought she was fine playing with her rabbit toy. She just started screaming, and, and then, Daniel said she was bleeding, and there was blood, and—"

"Jack!" I turn and see Susan, Daniel's mother, rush across the street. "Is she alright?"

"No, we need to go. _Now._"

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Eleven]<strong>

There was a bang.

I woke up in the middle of the night to a headache and scratching the place the woman had placed her hand. Looking beside me, Lisa, who had fallen asleep reading her book, was breathing calmly and contently. Getting up from the ruffled sheet I follow the sound of banging, reminding myself of a late night horror film I had watched a month ago, where the character followed the blood trail and got himself killed because of his curiosity. Leaving the main bedroom I gaze down the darkened hallway, the outline of the stair rail and large potted plant were visible, but aside them, I had to strain to see anything else. I walked toward Lucy's room, leaned up against it and listened, noting that the noise was indeed coming from her room. I opened the door.

"Lucy?" I whisper. A white nightlight and the small silhouette of Lucy playing with her rabbit toy greeted me, smiling merrily, enjoying making a shadow that looked like a bird on the ceiling. I exhale with relief, "Baby, it's too late to play with Robbie. What are you doing up? You can play with him tomorrow. Come on, get in bed."

She looked at me, disappointed washed over face. With a nod, she raised from the floor, itching the bandage that was on her head. I waited patiently for her to lift herself onto the bed and crawl underneath the cover, then wiggle herself deeper in before turning to me with a concerned look, "I don't like that lady, Daddy."

"Who, sweetheart?" I asked yawning.

"I don't like her." Lucy affirmed, "I don't like baby, either."

"What?" I say, "I thought you were looking forward to having a brother or sister? You know, when the baby is born, we're still going to love you. And you'll be a big sister, which will mean you'll have to look after baby, too."

"No." Lucy scoffed in response. "I _hate_ it."

* * *

><p>I had read Lucy a story, <em>Snow White<em>, and waited for her to fall asleep before I crept back to my bedroom. Somehow, I ended up having a staring competition with Robbie; his right button eye has fallen out and replaced with white stuffing that protruded from his head. When did that happen? Did Lucy do that? The pink tatty fur had got even worse, the small rabbit mascot was practically bald, and how it was still together was beyond even me. He sat on the end of the bed in an upright position. I blinked, and I wish I hadn't. It's eye turned red, a tiny pupil appeared in the center of the button, watching me closely with a blank expression. His teeth were bared, like he was talking, or about to say something. I couldn't move. I held Lucy, not too tightly to hurt her, but not loose in case the rabbit lurched forward and decided to drag her away from me.

The gap where its button eye used to be was infested with little roaches that crawled in and out of the torn socket. I blinked again. This time his mouth was wide open, his head tilted, a long ragged ear covered the socket. He looked to be screaming at me, his eye a vicious gaze as I imagined he was insulting me. The toy kept moving, closer and closer, until it was in a crawl position inches away. It had to be the lack of sleep, or the dark was playing a scary game with me, or it was the lighting of the night light or—

The rabbit returned back to normal. I gasped. It reverted back to a soft, but old, cuddly toy that Lucy loved.

I _had _imagined it.

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Twelve]<strong>

I think. And think. And think. Looking down at the build-it-yourself crib we had bought for the new member of the family, the feeling of bitterness has swallowed me whole, and it wouldn't let me go. I remembered when Lisa told me she was pregnant, I was happy, thrilled, but then I saw the look on her face and I _knew_ something was the matter. Was she scared? Did she want to keep it? Everything happened so fast and it was hard to have a quiet and content moment, especially with Lucy, Jareth, my un-employed self and with only one wage coming into the house, was having another child going to help? The expression on her face said it all, but in honesty, I enjoyed being a Father. The thought of having another baby was great. Yet, Lisa, even now, she was still hiding something from me.

Going to see the doctor was another story, sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by children who were screaming and crying and laughing, it didn't exactly fight my corner. But seeing that image on the screen as the Doctor said she was _eight weeks_ into her pregnancy, it changed Lisa's mind. I sat, and smiled, watching, listening, but something didn't feel…_right. Eight weeks? Eight? But, that doesn't…_

"How's it going in here?" Lisa wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning her head on my shoulder. "All good?"

"All good."

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Thirteen]<strong>

"_2, 0, 4, 8, 6, 3_." I murmured to myself with the hope that maybe that sequence had some significant meaning, but to me, they were nothing but a jumble of numbers. The radio is playing in the kitchen, playing a song I found quite relaxing and tuneful, though the name of it escaped my mind. Lifting the kettle I turn on the tap, filling it only halfway before returning it to the stand to stove to boil.

"_I've got message for all you folks down there in radio land. Now's the time for action. Our society is rotten to the core. I'm talking to all the fine, upstanding folks got their welfare cut, got their jobs pulled out from under 'em."_

A sudden headache had spread throughout my forehead, forcing me to retrieve a painkiller from the medication box we kept on the top counter.

"_Yeah, you! You know what to do!"_

I take one out, pop it in my mouth and swallow.

"_Now's the time! __**Do it!**__"_

The kettle's screeching came to an abrupt end and soon died down into the soft sound of the low rumbling of boiling water. For a while I just sat and stared straight ahead, my gaze fixed on the grey crack in the wall, the peeling yellow paint around it was turned outward like a dry flower petal.

* * *

><p><strong>[Day Fourteen]<strong>

The woman stared at me with her grey eye that pried between the slither of a gap in her black hair. It was surreal and blurry. Trying to turn away from her, I suddenly realize that I was in the hallway, the lighting above me red and illuminated the entire area with such an eerie and dangerous color. I felt her cold hand on my cheek; her long, slim fingers cover my face and mouth, restricting my breathing and making me fall back into her cold embrace.

_I can hear them…They're coming from below us…From below…I can hear them…_

_Look behind you. I'm here. __**Look.**_

_Do you hear my voice? Can you hear your own soul scream? __Very soon…Very soon…_

_Look behind you. I'm here. I'm always here. __**LOOK.**_

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><p><em><strong>AN: **Oh gosh, I haven't updated this story in so loooong. Thank you for the encouraging reviews! In response to one, yes, this is my first Silent Hill fic. With hopefully more to come as I __love the series._

_Thank you for your patience & for reading. _


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